i pray the lord my soul to take
by eaglesforthecup
Summary: AU Barry never wakes up from his coma. Warning: Major Character death. Originally written for WestAllen Week on tumblr


It's like any other normal night. She and Barry had gone to his nerdy science thing. They had talked and laughed and Barry had grinned the whole time and she had gotten her laptop stolen. Okay, maybe that last part hadn't been normal, but everything up to that point and after they had left the station had been normal.

She's home now, snuggled in a blanket and drinking hot cocoa for the warmth. She should really be working on her dissertation but she's kind of exhausted and she's had a long day, so she's putting it off just for tonight. Instead, she watches Netflix and lets herself relax.

She's in the middle of laughing at a particularly funny line when an odd chill runs through her spine and a terrible feeling settles in her gut.

—

She finds Barry collapsed on the floor of his lab and it feels like all the air has been sucked out of her lungs.

Oh god.

Oh god.

Not Barry.

No.

Her stomach churns and everything she had eaten that day spills out of her mouth.

—

He's rushed into the ER for surgery and she has to be restrained by one of the nurses even though she's his family and oh god, he was the one struck by lightning but her whole body hurts all over and she can't breathe.

The nurse explains it all–his condition, the surgery–to her and her dad but the words enter her ear and exit the other and she can't make sense of any of it. It's all gibberish. She's not a science person. That's Barry. Only he isn't here to explain it all to her and the thought wrenches and twists her heart painfully.

The only word that she can make out is "critical" – Barry's condition is critical. Barry's condition is critical and his heart had stopped and he's dying and–

Oh god. What was the last thing she had said to him? Was it something nice? Something about how amazing he is? Was it something teasing? She can't remember. She can't remember at all. She hopes it was meaningful. She hopes the last thing she had told him was something about how much she loved him and not something stupid. But she can't remember.

Oh god. He can't die. He can't die without him knowing just how much he means to her.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

—

The doctor approaches them and Iris is trying not to cry so loudly because she needs to hear this–she needs to hear that Barry is okay.

"How is he, doc?" her dad asks hoarsely, his eyes bloodshot.

"He's stable," the doctor says. And Iris lets out a huge breath that she didn't even know she had been holding.

Stable. Stable is good. Barry is stable.

More tears well and pool in her eyes but these are different tears. Stable. Barry is stable.

"Th-thank you, doctor," she says, uttering her first words since Barry had been pulled into surgery.

—

A coma. He's in a coma. He's not responsive and he won't wake up and he's in a coma.

A coma. An invisible hand takes hold of her heart and squeezes and twists and oh god. But at least he's not dead, she tells herself. It's okay because at least he's alive.

But god, the sight of him in that hospital bed is enough to make her sick. It's wrong. It's so wrong.

Barry's always been this adorable puppy that she's always tried to protect and now he just looks so tiny and fragile with wires connected to all of his body and how could she have let this happen?

Why hadn't she made sure he had gotten home safe that night instead of letting him do god knows what in his lab? How could she have let this happen?

—

She takes a week off of school and work to stay by Barry's side. She knows he'll wake up soon and she wants to be the first person he sees when he does.

She brings books to read and schoolwork to work on and she groans and complains to Barry like it were any other day and he wasn't in a coma.

She tries to imagine his responses, pictures the way his eyes would roll as the corner of his mouth lifted into that exasperated grin or the way his mouth would curve into his wide smile as the corners of his eyes crinkled. She can see it all so clearly, can hear his voice so perfectly.

The contrast to the still face and the relative silence is painful.

—

She pretends he is Sleeping Beauty under Maleficent's spell, awaiting his princess charming to awaken him from his slumber.

She's his fairy godmother, watching over him until his princess beats the dragon and rescues him.

Or maybe she's Maleficent because this is all her fault and why isn't he awake and it's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair.

—

She brushes his hair away from his forehead and stares at his tragically handsome face, willing him to wake up.

He looks so peaceful, like he really is just asleep and god, where is his princess charming come to save him? Doesn't she know that he's waiting for her to break the spell?

—

If she's Maleficent that means she could break it, right? It worked for Angelina Jolie and Iris is one hundred percent sure that she loves Barry more than Angelina Jolie loved Elle Fanning. One hundred percent sure.

Her eyes fall on his lips and linger there for a moment, but her lips press against his forehead and she waits for that burst of magic, waits for his eyes to flutter open.

She holds her breath and… Nothing happens.

She's always believed in miracles and the impossible, but this breaks her faith and crumbles it into dust.

—

This is the longest she's seen Barry without a smile. This is the longest she's ever been without a smile too.

—

A month. His living will says he wants to only be on life support for a month and then the doctors should pull the plug.

And she wants to scream at him. She wants to shout and yell and ask him what the hell is wrong with him for putting that in his will. How could he do that to her?

She tries to argue with the doctors. She tries to tell them that she knows Barry better than she knows anyone. She tries to tell them it has to be some mistake. That he wouldn't want his plug to be pulled. That if he knew how much pain she was in, he'd change his mind.

Their hands are tied, they tell her. It's in his living will and that's what they have to follow. They're so sorry.

Iris has never hated Barry more than in this moment.

But then her heart twists and she takes it back because he's in a coma and she can't hate him. Her last thoughts can't be of hating him.

Oh god. Why can't he just wake up?

—

"Please wake up," she says hoarsely, squeezing his hand hard in hopes it might do something but still he does not stir. "Barry, please. Please wake up. I need you. Please."

"Barry. Please wake up," she begs, shaking him gently. "Please. You have to wake up."

"Bear, please," she says, tears welling in her eyes as she shakes him harder. "You can't do this to me. You can't leave me. Please."

"What am I supposed to do without you? Barry. Barry. Please. Just wake up. Please. Wake up for me. Do it for me. I will never tease you again. I won't ever steal your fries. I–I–Please. Just please wake up. Please."

—

A month passes just like that and it's both the longest and shortest month she's ever experienced.

—

All of his loved ones get a moment or two with him before they pull the machine.

She's the last one, which seems right because she had been his first friend.

She takes a seat next to him, eyes already brimming with tears, and splays her hand over his heart one last time. It's beating fast, much too fast, but she finds the beat steady and reassuring.

"My dad told me you love me," she starts quietly. "He said he's watched you be in love with me since you were old enough to know what love is."

She pauses, half-hoping he'll wake and finish this confession but he lies as still and unresponsive as every other day.

"You should have been the one to tell me," she says, a single tear slipping down her face. "You should have been the one to tell me."

And god, she wants to know how he would've told her. Would he have stammered and blushed? Would he have boldly kissed her? She'll never know and it utterly breaks her heart.

"It's not fair," she says as more and more tears spill from her eyes. "This isn't what's supposed to happen."

Her tears fall on his handsome face and a part of her that still believes in miracles hopes that the tears will wake him, but he remains as unresponsive as ever.

"I–I love you," she admits, squeezing her eyes shut. "Do you hear me? I love you, Barry Allen."

But Barry doesn't reply and what's little left of her her heart shatters.

"It isn't fair. Y-you're s-supposed to t-tell me you l-l-love me a-and I'm s-s-supposed t-to a-ask you why it t-t-took so long a-and we're s-supposed to k-kiss a-a-and b-be h-happy. W-we're s-supposed to g-get m-m-married and h-have k-k-kids and g-grow o-old together. Barry… B-Bear… p-please wake up. P-p-please don't leave me. P-please."

And even though she's cried enough times to dry up her tear ducts, the tears continue to stream down her face with the force of a flood and no promise of ever stopping.

"I l-l-love you, B-Barry A-Allen," she says, laying her head on his chest. "I l-love you."

—

She's going through his stuff when she finds a ring–the ring, her mother's ring–and she curls up into a ball, her body wracking with massive sobs.

She doesn't know how she'll get over this. She doesn't know how she's supposed to get over this. Not when it feels like half of her heart, half of her soul has been torn from her. Barry Allen is–was, she reminds herself painfully–the love of her life. He wasn't supposed to die.

No. Barry Allen was not supposed to die.


End file.
